


Not Packing

by miraculous_lovesquare



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Glitter, M/M, Praise Kink, Smut, Stripper John, club, double orgasm, glitter everywhere, lap dance, size queen sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraculous_lovesquare/pseuds/miraculous_lovesquare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock goes to a strip club for a case. One particular stripper catches his attention.<br/>I'll give you three guesses as to which one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Packing

**Author's Note:**

> So I was going through kinklock's stripper John tag and this happened...  
> Enjoy!

The club was dingy and loud as Sherlock walked in. He rolled his eyes at the current strippers on the stage. Lestrade was obviously ogling them. He would be useless to Sherlock like this.

"Are you sure your wife would like you here?" Sherlock sneered.

"No..." Lestrade said, still distracted.

"I'll get him. You come collect. Your wife's happy and you might be able to finally fix your marriage."

"Thanks, mate. Just send me a text when you've got him pinned down. You said-"

"He's packing the substance in his pants yes. This may take me a while, I'm fairly sure everyone here uses tissues or foam to make themselves look bigger."

"Wait, really? How do you know? You know what, never mind, I'll be back with handcuffs." The DI slipped back out the door and Sherlock was alone in the smelly, uncomfortable place.

He shrugged off his coat and took a seat where the dancers could see him, hoping to lure out their suspect. The murderer had been wearing spandex with a container that looked like padding. He targeted obviously gay guys, letting them take him home. When the stripper took off his pants, the victim got more than they expected. Sherlock looked at the man on the stage. It wasn't his target, the man was using tissue to make a large bulge. Sherlock scanned the room for doors and passageways. Then the next act came out - four girls and three guys. Two of the girls and one guy stayed on the stage with the poles, while the others walked through the audience. Sherlock made eye contact with a blonde one he had been deducing (not the suspect, very good padding, invisible to even Sherlock's penetrating stare.) The blonde had obviously caught him looking and walked over.

"My name's Johnny, what's yours?" He purred with a smile, running a hand through Sherlock's hair. Sherlock cringed inwardly at the thought of washing glitter out of it.

"Sherlock." He replied shortly, hoping to lose the man.

"I like your name, _Sherlock_. Very unique. Long, too." John glanced meaningfully down at Sherlock's crotch. Sherlock really needed this man out of his way.

"Did you get that in Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock nodded towards the scar on his shoulder. The man stiffed, surprised.

"Afghanistan. How did you-"

"Oh, move over Johnny boy, this one's for me." The other stripper had come over and he was playfully shoving John out of the way. Sherlock looked at his pants. He could see a faint outline of plastic, and he knew this was the killer. He decided to play it out as he texted Lestrade behind his back.

"Are you going to fight over me?" Sherlock rumbled. "What about a contest? Whoever gives the best show gets _me_." Sherlock gestured dramatically, mostly at his groin.

"I'll go first." John said immediately, smirking at the murderer. The stripper had gotten over his shock, and somehow still wanted Sherlock. He watched as John swayed to the thump of the music, hands resting lightly on Sherlock's shoulders. The other dancer gripped the back of Sherlock's chair and swayed for the people around him.

"Relax, babe, you're about to see the best type of dancing." He winked and slid slowly to the floor, spreading his legs provocatively. He took back his hands to drag them up his sides as he stood back up. He smirked at the look on Sherlock's face. It must have been quite the sight. Sherlock was watching eagerly, practically drooling. His hand twitched, almost reaching out before he remembered himself.

"You can _touch_." John said, insinuating one of his legs between Sherlock's. Sherlock complied, sliding fingers from knee to hip, brushing at the bottom of John's very short shorts. John shimmied to the music and Sherlock looked into his blue eyes. There was heat there, stunning in amount and Sherlock shivered, bringing his hand back to his own thigh. John laughed, light and giggle-y, and turned so Sherlock got a good look at his arse.

"See something you like?" John asked, shaking his hips. Sherlock was transfixed.

"Yes, John. I do think I like your dancing." John grinned and slowed his movement, making small circles instead of just wiggling back and forth.

"I knew you would." John said confidently. He turned so he was facing Sherlock and sat over both legs, grinding down slightly. Sherlock bit his lip until it bled and tried hard not to come. He focused on how annoying it would be for his dry cleaner to get all the sparkles off his trousers.

"There you are! Of course you'd be the one guy in the whole club to get two dancers." Lestrade came through with another officer.

"That's him." Sherlock tilted his head towards the other stripper who was waiting for his turn by sending Sherlock bedroom eyes and dancing in circles. Lestrade pulled out his handcuffs and John looked at Sherlock, startled.

"What's going on?" He asked, still seated comfortably in Sherlock's lap.

"Your co-worker was killing all the people he brought home. Very homophobic, not very stable." John shuddered, but not in pleasure.

"I can't believe Dave would do that."

"I'm assuming you don't."

"Of course not!" John stared at Sherlock. "That's insane."

"Good. I live not far from here, and I'm not much for dying." He patted John's shoulder, a cue for him to stand. John didn't move.

"So you work for the police? Is that why you knew about the scar?"

"I'm a consulting detective. The police come to me when they're out of their depth, which is always." He paused. "I also know that you were a doctor."

"How?" Sherlock put his lips directly by John's ear.

"I'll explain on the way to my flat. Then I can give you a small tour. I have been looking for a... Flatmate." He whispered. John smiled again, standing up and holding out his hand. Sherlock grabbed it and led him out the door.

"Explain, Sherlock." John said, shivering a bit against the autumn chill. Sherlock dropped his coat onto the underdressed stripper and tugged him closer so that Sherlock's arm was around John's waist and their hips bumped as they walked.

"Well, it's obvious you're not the immediate candidate for a stripper because of your scar. You do make up for it with everything else, but why would a person with scarring do a job where they have to get mostly naked? Especially after serving in the army, you demanded respect, but now you're taking off your clothes for strangers? You're desperate for money. Why would you need it, you have an army pension? That's simple, you're living somewhere you can't pay for with that, London, most likely. You wouldn't go to a job far away."

"Can't stay in London on an army pension, can't live anywhere else." John said, listening carefully.

"Exactly, you can't live anywhere else. You got attached to the city, even though you're obviously from a rural home, suburban maybe. When could you have made attachments in London? College. You went to college in London. Near this area of London, in fact, and going by the fact that you joined the army to afford it, you went to Barts. It was a shot in the dark, but a good one. Now the question is: what did you study there? Well, you went to the army afterwards and your wound looks like it was done while you were kneeling. The only reason you would be kneeling in the position that would cause that wound would be helping a fellow soldier. If you had simply been taking the bullet for them, it would be messier, and if you were paying attention, you would have shot the enemy first. No, you were tending a man down. Tending a soldier in the army in order to go to St Barts? Army Doctor."

"Wow. That was amazing." Sherlock almost stopped in his tracks.

"It was?"

"Extraordinary, it was quite extraordinary."

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off." Sherlock smirked and it set John off, making him giggle, a more natural laugh than the one at the club.

"There is one thing, though." John said.

"Hmm?"

"Any idiot could figure that out after sleeping with me."

"But I-" John held up a hand to stop Sherlock's protests.

"I've got a RAMC tat on my bum." This time Sherlock did stop. Only briefly though, and he hurried John along at a faster pace.

"A tattoo?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, you wanna see?"

"Oh God, yes." Sherlock said, turning onto Baker Street. He quickly lead John inside and up to his flat.

"John, mmph." Sherlock tried to speak, but he was quickly silenced by John's mouth on his, the muscular body pressing him against the door.

"Do you know how much that turned me on?" John's voice was husky from arousal. "The fact that all your attention was on _me_ and you could figure that all out in one look." John ground his hips against Sherlock, transferring even more glitter to Sherlock's form. By now he didn't care.

"John, I'm- Oh, God, I'm gonna..." Sherlock couldn't even string two words together. John's dancing had done him in, and he was going to come in his pants like a teenager.

"That's right gorgeous, come for me. I want to see you loose your mind. Your clever, clever mind, You're so brilliant, Sherlock-"

"Oh!" Sherlock came, shuddering into John's neck, grabbing John's waist and letting the wall take most of his weight. He stilled. Had he disappointed John? He opened his eyes to see John looking at him with awe.

"Where's your bedroom?" He asked urgently. "I want to explore you, and see you come out of your pants dripping." Sherlock raced to his bedroom and opened his nightstand, John hot on his heels.

"What's this?" John asked, pulling out Sherlock's favorite dildo. It was large and long, perfect for Sherlock's needs. Sherlock ignored it and grabbed the lube and a condom

"I think you know exactly what it is, John."

"You like it this big?" John quirked a brow playfully.

"Yes." Sherlock said, kissing John again. He didn't want to talk, he wanted _John_.

"Good." John murmured into their kiss, taking command and dominating Sherlock, pushing him onto the bed and spreading him out.

"Shirt." John said, undoing enough buttons to slip Sherlock's shirt over his head. He ran his hands reverently up and down Sherlock's chest.

"Pants, both of us." John stood off the bed and shucked his pants, and Sherlock struggled with his zip. He stared at John's dick, distracted. He hadn't used any packing after all. Oh God.

"Let me help you." John said. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock, moving their hands away from the front of his pants. Their tongues collided and Sherlock moaned, growing hard again. John separated and quickly divested Sherlock of the rest of his clothing.

"You're-"

"Hard. And waiting." Sherlock handed John the lube and a condom and spread his legs eagerly, lying on his back and stretching his hands to the headboard. John set the supplies to the side choosing to nose at Sherlock's genitals first.

"Mmmm." John hummed, his neck against Sherlock's cock. Sherlock threw his head back and groaned. Then he felt tongue. It moved slowly, starting at his balls and traveling almost to his rim before skittering away again. Then it laved all over Sherlock's thighs, lips joining it. It got closer again and again it moved back before touching him where he wanted it.

"John, please." Sherlock whined. And John _delivered_. His tongue danced much like his body, with a smooth rhythm that seemed designed to tear Sherlock apart. The detective was now making what he assumed where embarrassing noises, but he didn't care because John was worshiping his hole with tongue and lips. The tongue dipped inside Sherlock's hole, flirting along the inside of the rim, and Sherlock almost screamed. In and out, John mimicked the motions his cock would be making later, his mouth still moving against the outside of Sherlock's body. He could feel the saliva building up, and John kept going, even when Sherlock was sure his jaw would be sore. Sherlock wanted more, though.

"John, please, your fingers." Sherlock managed to ask. John gave one last long lick from his perineum to the bottom of his balls, then poured lube on his fingers. Sherlock's arse was dripping from John's mouth, but he supposed lube didn't hurt anything.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good." John said, stroking his non sticky hand up and down Sherlock's thigh.

"You already have." Sherlock breathed, and John grinned wolfishly. He slid one finger over Sherlock's hole, then slipped it in with no resistance. They both moaned at the same time. John wiggled his finger around for a bit before slowly adding a second. However, Sherlock wanted fast, so he bared down on John's hand and John's mouth dropped as he watched his fingers get swallowed up by Sherlock's greedy arse.

"You're going to kill me." John muttered, scissoring his fingers. He kept his other digits curled tightly to his hand so that Sherlock couldn't take any more on his own.

"John, please. More!" Sherlock demanded. John took the hint from last time and stuck his third finger in with a quick thrust. Sherlock loved it, taking all of John's fingers.

"Oh! John!" John was a doctor, Sherlock should have expected him to know how to find a prostate with ease. Still, John had him writhing in seconds, teasing his fingers along the bundle of nerves. Shortly, John added a forth finger, and any pain that might have caused was swallowed by the pleasurable sensation of fingers grazing Sherlock's prostate.

"John, I, I need you. I need your cock. Please." Sherlock begged. He never begged, but he needed John's cock like he needed oxygen. John's fingers slid out and Sherlock felt their loss.

"Give me a minute, clever boy." John rolled on the condom, not noticing the pet name. When he was slathering on lube, his brain seemed to catch up with his mouth.

"Uh, sorry, Sherlock, I-"

"I liked it, and I bet I'll like your cock even more." Sherlock interrupted, eager for John's huge dick to fill him up.

"Alright, my brilliant Sherlock. You love it when I compliment you, don't you?" John eased his cock into Sherlock's hole. "Look at you, you beautiful creature. Your legs go on for miles and you have no right to have an arse that plush for such a skinny body. God, it feels nice around my cock. Yes, you love how I fill you up, don't you. You love the feeling of a huge dick inside you, and I'm giving it to you right now." John was almost in, only an inch to go when Sherlock wrapped his legs around John's back and pulled.

John was sheathed completely in the heat of Sherlock, and he chuckled darkly.

"You're so impatient, huh? You like it fast? I'll give you fast." With that, John pulled out until only his head was inside and snapped his hips forward, the erotic sound of their hips slapping covered by twin groans. The stripper collapsed to his forearms, so that he could go faster. He pulled out and back again, picking up the pace until the headboard of the bed was slamming against the wall. The bed creaked, not used to so much activity, but both men were too focused on the moment between them. John found the right angle and hit Sherlock's prostate with every thrust, making him shout John's name among obscenities and pleas.

"Oh, John! Oh, fuck! John! John, I'm coming!" Sherlock screamed, arching off the bed and shooting semen to his chest, which was impressive for being his second orgasm of the night. John swiftly followed, a bit quieter, but still pulsing powerfully inside the condom. Once the aftershocks finished their course, John pulled out, carefully gripping the base of the condom and tying it off.

"Where's your bathroom?"

"Through that glass door, there." John nodded and went in to clean himself off. He came back with a damp wash cloth and wiped Sherlock gently, taking his time to scrub at every drop of come. He also inspected Sherlock's hole for damage, and while it was still sensitive, it wasn't torn.

"Be back in a mo'" John put the cloth in the sink, and then came back to the bed.

"Were you serious about needing a flatmate? This is a nice place."

"You barely saw any of it."

"I saw enough."

"Yes, I am looking for a flatmate."

"You were before," John corrected. "Now you have one."

"Excellent. You can come with me to our next crime scene. I have needed an assistant, and you were an army doctor."

"Yes, I suppose you've seen my work, so now I get to see yours." John agreed, snuggling up to Sherlock's side.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you?"

"Not at all. Your mouth has more uses than just talking." John smiled into Sherlock's side.

"I suppose it does." Sherlock jested back, fighting a yawn. "We can get it all settled tomorrow. For now, I need rest."

"Yup. Goodnight, my clever boy."

"Goodnight, John." Sherlock noticed John's breathing evening out before allowing darkness to take him.

* * *

 Sherlock rolled over John and reached for his ringing phone.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Hey, Sherlock. Remember the other case I had you on? Not the stripper one, the ladder one. The killer disappeared and left us with another body. I could really use your help."

"I'm enjoying a lie in."

"You? Really?"

"I guess I'll have to get up and cater to your inept blue man group."

"Please do. I'll text the address. Thanks, Sherlock." Sherlock hung up and looked at John.

"What was that all about? The police need you again? Already?" The man beside him asked.

"As I said, I help them when they're out of their depth, which-"

"Is always." John finished. "I didn't think it would be this often."

"It is a bit of an anomaly." Sherlock conceded.

"Got time for a quickie, then?" Sherlock's eyes dilated obviously, even to John. "I guess that's my answer, then." John smirked, pecking Sherlock on the lips before diving under the sheets.

"Oh God, John!"

* * *

 "Who's this? Did he follow you home?" The first question was for Sherlock, but the second was for John.

"No, actually, I followed him." John smiled. He had dressed in some of Sherlock's shorter sweatpants and had a hoodie on over his bare chest. He brushed past the lady, Donovan, and headed in the door, Sherlock smiling as he followed. At the door Sherlock handled the surly man, and John let him, watching Sherlock's arse as he went up the stairs inside.

"Who's he?" A third person asked, but he wasn't nearly as petty as the other police. John recognized him from the papers, he was the DI

"He's with me." Sherlock said simply.

"Yeah, but who is he?"

"Don't you remember?" Sherlock asked, turning to the poor man.

"Wait, isn't he that blonde stripper from the club?"

"Congratulations, you have an average memory."

"You left us with the murderer, I was focused more on him, really. No offense," He added, addressing John.

"None taken. I'm John." He shook the man's hand, and asked, "Now, where's the victim?"

"But, I-"

"Why do you have me here, Lestrade? You need me. I need him."

"God help me, I do need you. Second door on the right." John nodded and headed off, but Sherlock stayed behind.

"Spit it out, I can hear your questions from over here." Sherlock said impatiently.

"Just the one: why?"

"Apparently, they don't all pack. Besides, I needed a flatmate." Sherlock winked and flounced off after John, Lestrade just noticing the bits of sparkles on different areas of the detective's body.

"Oh God." Lestrade said. He followed the two down the hallway, feeling somewhat wary of the new addition. When he heard some giggling from in the room, he knew he had trouble.

At least Sherlock might be better after sex.

"Come on, Lestrade, we aren't making out, that's not for public consumption, let alone idiot consumption.

"Never mind." Lestrade whispered to himself, walking to the room to deal with the two consultants.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write smut often, so please be kind :)  
> My tumblr is ninja-at-221b if you want to drop by!


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